


Of postcards and flower petals – the little things that bind us

by icecreamsuki



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:50:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icecreamsuki/pseuds/icecreamsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of childhood grudges, of unexpected reunions and partings, their paths would cross again</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of postcards and flower petals – the little things that bind us

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Postcrossing. It's just a site my friend introduced to me. A line was copied verbatim from the site. No copyright infringement intended.

“Okaa-san, look! There are so many postcards and stamps in here!” The nine year old boy grabbed his mother’s hand and brought her to a corner of a little homey art shop in the heart of Tokyo.   
  
“Yeah?” The mother was simply amused by her son’s enthusiasm and obliged. She was thankful that her son could find things that interested him and things to be passionate about. Once, he watched a TV show teaching kids how to draw and how to make crafts, and he practically dragged his mother to go to a store and buy a set of crayons and coloring books the day after. Another time, he got addicted to toy cars, and the question “What do you want for your birthday?” from his mother earned a resounding “A toy car! A toy car! Please mom, I want a toy car!”   
  
He wasn’t like one of those spoiled brats who asked their parents to buy this and buy that, and then threw tantrums if they didn’t get what they want. He acknowledged that they weren’t rich and that if he wanted something, he would have to work for it. Or patiently wait for someone to give it to him, for that matter. That was why he always looked forward to his birthday, and Christmas was his favorite season. And questions like “What do you want for your birthday?” and “What do you want this Christmas?” were music to his ears.   
  
For his birthday this year, he wanted postcards and stamps. And his mother merely smiled in fondness at how his son’s interests shifted from one thing to another.   
  
It all started with a lunch break a week prior when his seatmate brought a pale blue envelope to school. During class, Ohno had been silently observing how his classmate delicately held the envelope as if it was fragile. He also noticed the soft smile on her lips as she stroked the inscription on the outside. Ohno thought it was probably her name, or the name of the person who sent it to her. He was familiar with mail. Those envelopes came every month to their house, the sight of which make his mother sigh. “Bills again! They come in like clockwork.” He didn’t fully understand what his mother meant because he didn’t ask. All he understood was that envelopes, also called “mail”, also called “bills”, do not bring good news. Which was why he was puzzled that the girl sitting beside him was smiling in happiness.   
  
He looked at the envelope once again. It was pale blue, unlike the usual white envelopes that arrive at their mailbox and kitchen table. There was also a hint of something pink at the upper right hand side of the envelope.   
  
It was completely normal for children to be curious, but most would want to immerse themselves in their curiosity so they ended up asking a long string of questions. Ohno, however, was contented with just watching. Like other children, he had a lot of questions in his head, but rather than asking, he enjoyed thinking and hypothesizing on what the answers could be.   
  
At another time, he would have come up by himself with a list of possible reasons as to why the envelope seemed precious to the girl. But this time, he felt like he had to know. His curiosity got the better of him.   
  
His question was already at the tip of his tongue – “What is that?” – when the girl swiftly turned her head and eyed him playfully.  
  
“Want to know what this is?” she said. She seemed very excited to tell someone about the letter she was holding.   
  
“What is it?” Ohno asked immediately. His face was starting to inch closer to the girl’s desk to have a better look at the letter but she suddenly hid it behind her back and away from Ohno’s view.   
  
“It’s a treasure!” she said softly as she brought out her bento to eat her lunch, leaving Ohno frustrated and deprived of information.  
  
“But won’t you share your treasure with me? Please, Erika-chan.”   
  
The girl was munching on her chicken teriyaki as she pondered on what Ohno said. It took a full minute before Ohno brought him back to their conversation.  
  
“Erika-chan?”  
  
“Oh. Sorry, I spaced out,” she said shyly as she stuffed her mouth with rice to hide her embarrassment.  
  
“You do that all the time.”  
  
“So do you.”  
  
“But you do it more often recently.”  
  
“You were the one who started it. You space out all the time. And I am unfortunate enough to be influenced by Ohno Satoshi’s bad habit.”  
  
“Keeping secrets is a bad habit.”  
  
“No, it isn’t.”  
  
“Yes it is.”  
  
“No, it isn’t!”  
  
“Yes, it—” the argument was punctuated by a distinct sound that was undeniably that of a rumbling stomach. “Is.” He completed the sentence, pronouncing the last word softly and defeatedly, as if the rumbling of his stomach weakened his argument.  
  
“Just eat, Ohno-kun,” Erika admonished as she continued with her meal, savoring every bite. The sight of her eating happily felt mocking to Ohno.  
  
He brought out his bento and turned away from her. He ate his meal grumpily, with his head turned away from his seatmate.   
  
Erika chuckled at Ohno’s pettiness. She knew he would give in eventually. Besides, she wanted to share her happiness with someone and Ohno was her most trusted seatmate.   
  
Glancing at his desk, Ohno found a picture of an eight-post gazebo painted in clean white. The roof was cone-shaped, painted in silver with traces of white. There was a path of adorned with pebbles leading to the stairs on the front. The rest was covered with grass in different shades of green. There were two trees in the foreground casting shadows on the grass, highlighting the gazebo. The yellow color of the foliage of the trees on a sunny day added to the charm of the place. It looked like a perfect place for wedding photos. It could make any couple appear to be brimming with happiness and love. Just looking at it could make someone feel at peace.   
  
Ohno stared at it in awe. The first thought that came to mind was how nice it would be to fall asleep in that place.   
  
“It’s a postcard from my mom,” Erika explained. Ohno’s mouth formed an O shape in discovering what it was.   
  
“My mom is a journalist. She travels to various places around the world to experience other cultures, mingle with people, interview famous personalities – the life of a journalist,” she said proudly. It was the first time she mentioned her mother to Ohno. Those two usually talked about school stuff or mundane things such as the menu for the day in the cafeteria, or the time-sale in the super market, or urban legends that Erika couldn’t quite get enough of. They rarely talked about anything personal, but Erika was glad they did. It was obvious that she was  _dying_  to tell someone about the postcard and her mother.  
  
“Sounds cool,” Ohno said as he stared at the scenery on the letter, which he just recently learned to be called “postcard.”   
  
“ _Sounds cool?_  You mean very cool! My mom is awesome!” Erika held her hands together to keep herself from flailing.   
  
“Does she always send you postcards?”  
  
“Yes, every time she goes to a foreign country, she definitely sends me one. She describes in detail the places she’s seen, the people she’s met, the differences between their culture and ours. Sometimes, she doesn’t mail it anymore; she just gives it to me directly when she returns home. Even if she goes to the same country again, she definitely doesn’t send the same postcard scenery twice. She always says that there are too many places to see in the world and she wants to share that scenery with me.” Erika was already speaking faster and faster in her excitement.   
  
“That’s really nice,” Ohno said, handing the postcard back to her who seemed eager to gaze at it again.  
  
“It is,” she said. Her expression was the softest Ohno had seen. He was happy for her. More than that, he wondered how it would feel to receive something like that.  
  
  
-=-  
  
The day after the field trip, the class of elementary school students were at different energy levels. A few were chatting animatedly with each other while the rest appear physically drained. The classroom was unusually quiet as half of the class was practicing their mastered art of sleeping inside the classroom despite awkward positions. Many were resting their heads on their forearms expertly positioned on the desk. A few of the guys were resting their heads directly on the hard wood. The loudest and most energetic of them all - the leader of the gang - had his neck lying on the back rest of the chair with his head thrown back in a seemingly uncomfortable position. However, the drool on the edge of his mouth disproved norms and served substantial evidence that such a position could bring satisfying sleep after all.   
  
The teacher entered and upon witnessing the state of her students, she merely shook her head in fondness. Besides it was not a rare sight for her anyway.  
  
That day, she was in a good mood - smiles and sparkling eyes.  
  
In contrast to the teacher's happy mood, Nino was in a terribly grumpy state. He was too tired the night before so he ended up falling asleep on the couch. He woke up that morning with a terrible backache.   
  
He had been wishing that the teacher would take mercy on them and just let them free for the day. Being a manga fan, he sometimes wished that their teacher was like Yankumi in the Gokusen series - a carefree teacher who would just let them do as they pleased from time to time.   
  
Unfortunately, they were stuck with a teacher who tortured them into having to sit in class after a physically taxing field trip. Nino was too busy despising the teacher for her jolly air so he didn't hear her announcement.  
  
"All right class, since half of you are sleeping anyway, let's have a lazy day today!"  
  
The students stirred in disbelief at their teacher's change in character and sudden generosity, while a few remained asleep.   
  
They had done museum and temple hopping the day prior and apparently, the teacher bought 30 postcards, 30 stamps and 30 envelopes. She hurriedly passed them around as if eager to just get it over with. It was as if she had something else to do that day - something fun, which was actually the reason why she was in a good mood.  
  
'Good for her,' Nino thought sourly as examined the postcard on his table. It had a picture of a temple – a replica of the one they went to the day before.  
  
"Today, we will practice how to write a letter. I will be checking your grammar and your sentence construction. And guess what? These postcards would be sent randomly to different people around the world! Your letters may be read by someone from Hawaii, from Italy, from Africa, from anywhere around the world. So make sure you think it through. The topic of the letter is the things that caught your interest on our field trip yesterday. It can be anything, really, as long as it's descriptive," she said while she was handing out the postcards, stamps and envelopes. After she brought the last student into a state of acceptable wakefulness, she left - or rather skipped - out of the room.   
  
"She must be in love. Maybe she has a date today," Nino muttered as he lazily twirled the pen in his fingers, not knowing what to write.   
  
'Something that caught my interest,' Nino thought. He surveyed the classroom and none of his classmates appeared thrilled to write. He dropped his pen on his desk with force - a sound startling his seatmate who gave him a strange look.   
  
He brought out his deck of playing cards to start practicing the new trick he watched on youtube, the postcard ignored. 'Maybe I will come up with something to write after I master this trick,' he thought as he focused on the task at hand.   
  
He never mastered the trick, but he was able to write something on the postcard at the last minute – at the very last minute.  
  
  
-=-=-  
  
After hearing Erika's story about her mother, Ohno started to gather information regarding postcards. He even visited the library, which was a rare occurrence in itself. After he was satisfied with breezing through lots of books and countless internet sites, he had a general idea regarding the content of a postcard letter.   
  
He daydreamed of receiving postcards from America, Africa, Australia, Antarctica (yes, he sort of memorized the names of the continents as he was browsing books). Not to mention Europe! Europe – the home of artists from earlier centuries!  
  
How he would like to be in correspondence with people in foreign, faraway countries – to receive descriptions of sights and sounds, and imagine what it would feel like to live there!  
  
After an hour of an endless click a link, read, and close the window routine on his laptop, he stumbled across a site named Postcrossing. It had a simple give and take principle wherein a person sends a postcard and receivess a postcard in return. You could share with random strangers where you’d been and what you’d seen.   
  
The introduction of the site read:  
  
  
 _The element of surprise of receiving postcards from different places in the world (many of which you probably have never heard of) can turn your mailbox into a box of surprises - and who wouldn't like that?_  
  
  
The sentence caught his attention at once. He almost wanted to shoot his hand up in the air like in class and call out, “Me! Me! I would  _really_  like that.”  
  
Without thinking twice, he registered.   
  
Scenery from all over the world left him breathless. How wonderful would it be to be able to draw that scenery, capture the awe, and preserve it in a timeless piece of art? And all at once, he felt it was what he wanted to do in life. Ohno Satoshi, nine years old, with a dream of traveling the world and making art. He didn’t care how long it would take. He promised himself he would do it before he died.   
  
  
-=-  
  
Erika called it girly when he shared his excitement to her. He didn’t understand why. What was so girly about wanting a friend from another part of the globe – perhaps a place completely foreign to his ears? Forget exciting – wouldn’t that be  _magical_?  
  
It was 3 months ago since he sent his first postcard. He talked about Tokyo. He talked about his classmates and friends. He talked about fishes, his set of toy cars, the art store near their school, the cafeteria food. Before he knew it he was filling the whole page of his composition notebook. He came up with an essay even longer than the ones they were assigned to write in class.   
  
It was 3 months ago but he could still remember clearly how he asked and begged his mother to send the letter. Weary of his childlike persistence, his mother conceded to his wish and agreed to take it to the mailbox on her way to the grocery.  
  
Ever since then, each day he would be sprinting back home from school just to check if a postcard arrived for him. Sorting through a heap of envelopes – from bills to invitations for insurance – he always found nothing. And to this day, he was still regularly checking the mailbox upon returning home, to no avail.   
  
One fine Saturday, his mother offered to pick him up from Art Club activities. While his mother was steadily holding the steering wheel, she happily broke the news, “A postcard came earlier this morning after you left.”  
  
“You’re kidding! Really?” the boy’s heart swelled in excitement. He jumped a fraction of a centimeter from his seat. It was what he had been waiting for for years! For ages! For eons! All right, that was an exaggeration, but that was what it felt like. He couldn’t deny the building impatience he felt just to go home.   
  
Even before the engine of the car stopped, he was already dashing out of the car, through their driveway, into the kitchen where he knew his mother usually placed the mail. Grabbing the thinnest envelope with his name on it, he sprinted up a flight of stairs and into his room.   
  
In his haste, he tore the envelope and brought out the postcard inside. The picture was oddly familiar. It depicted a lake in the foreground. The flowers, trimmed shrubs and trees, and the clear blue sky were reflected on the calm waters of the lake. There was a temple in the background, tall and reaching towards the sky. Examining the picture closer, he noted a Japanese inscription on the lower right hand side. Dejected, he couldn’t believe that his very first postcard was from Japan, but he had hope that perhaps the content of the better would compensate for the lack of novelty.   
  
Turning the card around, his jaw dropped in incredulity at the message written there.   
  
  
 _Something that caught my interest?  
  
It was the new Nintendo DS the monk was holding! I mean, do monks normally play with a DS? I want one!  
  
Nino_  
  
  
It was written in huge letters in plain black ink, the character size making it obvious that the one who wrote it was a lazy ass who supposed filling the whole space of the postcard with his message would compensate for the lack of content – lack of sense – in his message.   
  
The possibility of a message written in invisible ink crossed Ohno’s mind, but the idea seemed improbable considering the size of the stupid message occupying the whole area of the back of the postcard.   
  
He felt deceived and betrayed to receive such a foolish letter after having poured his heart out and giving his all in the postcard he wrote. It was not fair! Shouldn’t postcards be screened first before they were sent to people? The website talked about receiving postcards from different parts of the world, but he received one from Japan? Oh, there was an element of surprise there, all right.   
  
Re-examining the envelope he tore, he noted that there was neither a full name nor an address of the sender.  
  
Just a name. Nino. Nino who had possibly been to that temple. Nino who wanted to have a DS.   
  
Ohno felt that given a one in a million chance to meet that Nino guy (or girl? He wasn’t really sure yet), he would strangle him (or her) to death, and demand compensation for tainting a child’s innocent dreams.   
  
  
-=-=-  
  
As winter rolled into spring, Ohno found himself standing before a building different from what he was used to. It was the time he least looked forward to in a year – the start of classes, especially now that he was stepping in his first year in high school. Not that he hated going to class. On the contrary, he enjoyed it. What he wasn’t thrilled about was the idea – the inevitability – of meeting new people and having to make friends.   
  
Unlike the usual tradition of classifying students with the smartest in class A and the least smart in class D, their high school, Ichinomiya Koukou, decided it would be more interesting to randomly assign students to a class to let them ‘meet new people and foster solidarity’, so the gifted students can teach those with poor performance in class.   
  
The possibility that his friends from middle school would be in the same class as him was relatively slim. Ohno didn’t yearn for a lot of friends anyway; being on good terms with his seatmate was enough. Erika was the closest he had to a friend back in middle school.   
  
-  
  
“What? Haven’t seen a DS before?” a bratty voice came from the seat beside him, waking Ohno to the realization that he was staring at his seatmate’s gaming device. Taking a good look at his seatmate, he was about the same height as him, a hint of childlike mischief in his eyes, a boyish grin on his lips and a carefree air about him. He was totally different from Erika, who had a kind, welcoming presence. Ohno’s new seatmate seemed sly and calculating.   
  
“To tell you the truth, I am very familiar with it,” Ohno replied. It was true. He was very familiar with a Nintendo DS. Ever since he received that foolish postcard, he had researched what a DS was. He even went to a gaming store to have a closer look at it.   
  
He was not impressed. Besides, he felt like anyone owning a DS was an enemy, even if his name was not Nino.   
  
Even as the teacher was already doing her roll call, Ohno observed that his DS-owning seatmate was still sneakily playing with his beloved DS, strategically placed between his thighs under the desk.   
  
“Matsumoto.”  
  
“Hai.”  
  
“Nakai.”  
  
“Hai.”  
  
“Ninomiya.”  
  
“Hai.”  
  
“Ohno.”  
  
Ohno was gaping at his DS-owning seatmate, complete with comical bulging eyes and open mouth. Did he just respond to the name Ninomiya?   
  
Nino-miya.  
  
 _Nino._  
  
“Ohno? Is Ohno-san absent?” the teacher called out.   
  
“Ah! Hai!” Ohno shouted, shooting his hand up in the air in panic.   
  
“All right. Okada.”  
  
The teacher continued her roll call as Ohno noticed that his seatmate named Ninomiya was snickering, his DS in one hand while the other was covering his mouth, the mirth evident in his eyes. “You should really pay more attention in class, Oh-chan.”  
  
Ohno flushed in embarrassment. His DS-owning-seatmate-named-Ninomiya had the gall to laugh at him even though they were practically strangers, and Ohno intended for them to remain that way. To top it off, he even gave him a nickname! Oh-chan, he thought vehemently. ‘Nobody has called me that before,’ he thought.   
  
Ohno decided right then and there. He hated this Nino guy, and nothing could change that. He firmly decided that he would ignore this Nino person all throughout his high school life, wishing that they would have different classes next year.   
  
 _‘Oh-chan,’_  he repeated in his head. He didn’t want to admit it, but he actually liked the sound of that nickname. But of course he’d be caught dead before he told Nino that.  
  
  
-=-=-  
  
Nostalgia. That was the air Ohno was emitting in Nino’s point of view.   
  
Ohno had always been a man of few words, Nino observed. He only spoke when necessary and when asked. He preferred to listen rather than share his own stories. He believed that every person would want his or her story to be told, and he wanted people to have somebody listening to them. Storytellers definitely wanted listeners and he was always first to enlist for the role. He didn’t mind not being able to tell his story. He figured the stories of others were more interesting anyway. And how very wrong he was. There was a certain person who had been itching to know more about him, who wanted to hear the stories he kept to himself just to give way for other people to talk.   
  
There was a time when Ohno was talkative. When he was eight he would run back home to tell his mother about what happened in school. He possessed the usual enthusiasm of a child back then.   
  
The popular guys in class had a certain charisma about them that drew all the rest to their stories, complete with variation in the tone of voice, and of course, confidence which Ohno felt he lacked. It was then that the decision came that he’d rather have these kinds of people talk and do the favor of entertaining a lot of people. Ohno didn’t want to waste other people’s time with his boring stories.   
  
He didn’t completely shut himself off from the world though. Once in a while he told stories, but more often than not, he would end up as a stuttering mess so that other people couldn’t comprehend what he was trying to say. Sometimes, he would forget to explain the context properly leading his listeners into a labyrinth of confusion. And if he was telling a funny story, he would be the first to laugh, making him feel embarrassed, making him unable to deliver the punch line properly.   
  
He tried. He really tried, but in the end he was resigned to the conclusion that perhaps he wasn’t really cut out for telling stories.   
  
But that didn’t hinder him from telling stories to himself, introvert that he was. He enjoyed formulating stories in his head. In the eyes of others, he was spacing out, but inside his head was far more entertaining than other people could ever imagine. He enjoyed it even though he wasn’t able to share it with others, or possibly, he enjoyed it exactly because of that.   
  
-  
  
It was frustrating! Nino felt like Ohno was teasing him, even though that was not really the case.   
  
It was just adding to his longing to be able to chat freely and comfortably with Ohno. To have access to all the random spontaneous things that sprouted in Ohno’s brain. Whether they were deep, interesting or just plain silly, Nino wanted to know whatever it was Ohno was thinking about that made him have a small smile of nostalgia on his lips.  
  
“What are you smiling about?”  
  
Submitting to his curiosity, Nino had already asked Ohno before, twice to be exact.  
  
The first time, Ohno didn’t answer. He seemed so absorbed in his own world that he didn’t hear Nino’s question. Patiently letting it slide that he was ignored, Nino just continued throwing discreet gazes towards Ohno as he listed down the possibilities of what Ohno could be thinking, some realistically feasible and others bizarre.   
  
The second time, Nino made sure his voice was loud enough for Ohno to hear. Ohno glanced at him, appearing slightly embarrassed that someone was watching him during his rather private conversation with himself. Ohno was flushed. He was startled. No one had ever asked him regarding his random thoughts. A part of him was flattered and eager to share his stories, but a larger part of him was afraid of being judged. He wasn’t ready yet.  
  
He laughed nervously and shook his head, hair bouncing in the process. For a moment, his eyebrows furrowed a little and he let his lower lip jut out a little in a pout. Then he was back to that little smile on his lips as he looked past the window to the greenery outside.  
  
The softness of his gesture tugged at the corners of Nino’s heart. He immediately looked out the window with his face resting on his palm slightly covering his mouth to cover the shy smile forming on his lips.   
  
Maybe he was the one who is not yet ready to know more about Ohno, Nino thought.   
  
  
-=-=-  
  
 **Of clouded judgment and lack of action**  
  
He knew it was a drinking party. He knew drinking was not really something he enjoyed, or practiced for that matter. He was content with just tasting, for the sole purpose of satisfying his curiosity why countless nameless people, including his peers, found drinking enjoyable.   
  
He had his first taste of beer back in sixth grade when his cousins were already drinking during the holiday festivities. When he was sure there were no prying eyes around, he took a furtive sip. He did not expect the bitterness, neither did he expect the nasty burning sensation in his throat, for why would people take pleasure in punishing themselves that way?   
  
Drinking beer was exactly like that for him - a punishment game. His young mind concluded that people who drank beer must have been sadists.  
  
He knew it was a drinking party but he still attended it for the sake of belongingness.   
  
It was mentioned in passing in class – Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. It stated that after physiological needs such as food, water and air, and safety needs such as security of body, family and resources are met, human beings yearn for belongingness.  
  
It was one of the few moments that he was really paying attention in class, and it struck a chord in him. There was actually a theory for that? Isn't that supposed to be common sense? And then, as usual, he drifted off in his own thoughts again. His unconscious was awakened upon hearing such a theory. He started to get irritated because it bugged him.   
  
How would he fulfill his need for belongingness?  
  
And that was what made him come to a drinking party with his peers. To make a connection.  
  
With drinking parties came drinking party games. The rules were simple. The winner of the game got to ask the loser a question. Any question. And no backing out.  
  
While it was entertaining, would you really tell a stranger such personal things? Granted they weren't really strangers, but rather classmates who saw each other 5 times a week. However Ohno thought about it though, frequency of meeting did not necessarily connote closeness.   
  
The questions ranged from simple to crazy to embarrassing.   
  
"What is your most embarrassing moment?"  
  
"The day I pooped in my pants back in grade school but still constantly denied it even though it was obvious to everyone that it was me who was stinking."  
  
“What is your oldest, most ancient fantasy?”  
  
“To be given a piggy-back ride.”   
  
Or other questions like:  
  
"What is the sexiest part of your body?"  
  
Or worse, "What is the sexiest part of your seatmate's body, and why?"  
  
Perhaps it was due to the alcohol, that honesty and neglect of social norms were evident in their answers.   
  
People, especially the popular ones, came up with witty and entertaining answers to such questions. But Ohno was not like that. He knew it himself. He was the type who continually pondered questions without answering right away unless he was put on the spot.   
  
Fortunately enough, luck was on his side as he constantly played mediocre in the game, neither being the first nor being the last, just enough to stay in the game and not stand out.   
  
However, he knew that it was just a matter of time before someone realized that he hadn’t yet had his share of the punishment game.  
  
The game rolled on, each of the players with close to the maximum amount of alcohol in their system. Both the questions and answers were getting bolder and bolder. It was amusing for Ohno for some time, seeing his classmates make fools of themselves, but he couldn’t deny the dread of the possibility that it may soon be him on the spot.  
  
Nakai, the loudest of the gang, was blabbering like a fool for half an hour already, and it was a wonder he still had enough functioning connections in his brain to lead him to victory in their game. By a mysterious turn of events, Nakai won and Ohno lost, and it was because he was preoccupied with the thought of losing that he lost, ironically so.  
  
It was as if he was struck by lightning upon hearing the question, giving his whole being a jolt. His heart felt like lead, with gravity adding force, pulling his heart to the pits of his stomach. He was nauseated and for a moment he wished he would end up vomiting just to have an excuse to leave and once and for all escape the situation he was in.   
  
“Why are you ugly?” came the brutal blow.  
  
He channelled all his energy into keeping his hands, his feet - his whole body – from trembling, despite being crushed inside. Perhaps if he focused his attention on his body, he would be able to divert the pain he was feeling. But being preoccupied with his body would lead him back to the question he was trying to escape from.   
  
 _“Why are you ugly?”_  
  
His vision was starting to get blurry as he let out an awkward laugh.   
  
"Foul!" He heard someone shout.   
  
He couldn’t care less. All he wanted was to go home and be alone, away from people who didn't know how hurt he was, away from people who didn’t know shit about him.  
  
He wanted to appear indifferent. He thought, ‘Oh please, let them not console me, for that would just be worse.’  
  
He understood that it was his alcohol addled mind that led Nakai to blurt out such a thoughtless and insensitive question, but he also knew that alcohol could make anyone lose his inhibitions and be honest and frank.  
  
“Why are you ugly?” As Ohno was on his way home alone, he played that question on repeat on his head. He stopped by a parked car and looked at himself using the tinted side window as a mirror.   
  
He tried to look at himself objectively. He was small compared to his classmates. He had chubby cheeks and he could still feel the baby fat on his sides. His face was like the surface of the moon, with valleys and craters caused by his unstoppable habit of fiddling with his pimples. He was average-looking in his opinion, but he never considered himself ugly. ‘Ugly,’ was a cruel adjective in his opinion. He didn’t want to believe he was ugly. Doing so would just diminish what little self-esteem he still had. It would just lead to unnecessary depression caused by insignificant people.   
  
-  
  
For the umpteenth time or so, Nino was harshly rubbing his face in frustration – frustrated at what happened that night, and frustrated at his good-for-nothing self.   
  
He was alone in his room, squatting on the floor, back leaning against the side of the bed.   
  
Why did other people treat the people who matter to him like trash? And why? Why, for heaven's sake, couldn't he do anything about it?  
  
He was unsure if he should talk to Ohno about it. On one hand, doing so could be cathartic for Ohno. It could be a channel for Ohno to vent his anger and frustration. On the other hand, reminding the other of what occurred that night could just reopen past wounds and add fuel to the fire. Reminding Ohno could mean torture. And Nino had no contingency plan for that.   
  
Also, Nino didn’t know if he had any right to talk about something personal to Ohno. They may be forever seatmates, groupmates and partners due to the proximity of their surnames, but that was that. They never really talked much, and Ohno was rather cold towards him, as if there was an invisible barrier between them which Ohno set up, and crossing that barrier or even coming close could cause it to strengthen even more.   
  
Besides, Nino wasn't even sure how Ohno was feeling, because the next day, he was greeted by the usual sight of Ohno quietly staring into space. He appeared the same as usual, the same as any other day. Yet Nino knew more than anyone else that appearances could be deceiving.   
  
  
-=-=-  
  
1, 2, 3.  
  
He had been counting the number of times Ohno was fixing the collar of another classmate, be it a boy or a girl.  
  
4, 5, 6.   
  
He had been noting the times Ohno was closing a bag left opened, turning off a faucet left running, turning off a light not needed, throwing an empty soda can into a garbage bin.   
  
7, 8, 9, 10.  
  
With or without people watching, Ohno had been voluntarily doing these little things, and Nino’s heart swelled in admiration. He once considered leaving his collar unfixed or his bag open, but he stopped himself from doing so. But that seemed too… desperate. He didn’t want to be trying too hard.   
  
Ohno had always been warm and caring, but never to him. Never to him. Never to Nino. Ohno was usually indifferent and aloof towards him, and Nino couldn’t figure out why.   
  
But Nino could not forget the water incident, as he fondly called it.  
  
Sleeping late the night before and failing to set the alarm, he woke up late for the midterm exams. Horrified, he pedalled his bicycle at a speed that could match the cars on a highway. Quickly and haphazardly parking his bicycle, he ran towards the building and up two flights of stairs. He was breathless and sweaty. His feet felt like jelly and crazily enough, he felt like he just wanted to sleep again.   
  
The class was startled as he entered with a loud sliding of the back door. They looked back and found Nino in that pitiful state. Some were annoyed for being disturbed during their exam. Some were exchanging amused whispers which the teacher silenced. Some ignored him and continued troubling over the answers. While one placed a water bottle on his desk and said, "Drink first."  
  
Exhausted from his unplanned physical exertion, Nino drank right away without noticing who the provider of such a treat was. After he settled down - decreased heart rate, normalized breathing rate and sweat wiped off - he looked to his side and found out who gave the bottle of water. Of course it was him - his eternal seatmate. The letters N and O were always next to each other in the alphabet after all.   
  
Even if he troubled over several questions, even if he totally didn't know a few and just answered them as if he was a contestant in a guessing game, it was the only test that Nino had taken with a smile all throughout.   
  
Even if the following day, Ohno treated him coldly as per normal, Nino continued to treasure that small moment of kindness.   
  
  
-=-=-  
  
“I think Ohno-kun wants to try it as well.”  
  
It was the season of preparations for the school festival. As per tradition, classes were cancelled on the day before the actual festival to give the students time to finish their preparations. High school class 1-C would be doing a haunted maze.   
  
Being one of the most artistic in the class, Ohno was tasked to design the maze and to instruct his classmates on what to do. He was busy designing the entrance – a message written in what seemed like blood, when something caught his attention in his peripheral vision. There was a toy car moving in his direction, dangerously near the paint he was using to write on the cloth.  
  
As with any group or class project, it couldn’t be avoided that there would be some slackers. Nakai and his gang were playing with a remote-controlled car, taking turns playing with it. Soon, even the girls joined the fun as well. Nakai proudly taught them how to operate the remote control to allow the car to move smoothly.   
  
Ohno couldn’t focus on his calligraphy as the urge to watch them was too overwhelming. He kept on stealing glances at the remote controlled car as he absently dabbed excessive paint on his brush. He kept on glancing not because he wanted to scold the group for slacking, but rather because he himself wanted to join in the fun as well.   
  
He had always wanted a remote-controlled car, and not just any cheap car, but one that was strong and could conquer grassland. He knew it was pricey which was why he was saving, dropping coins and bills on his piggy-bank from time to time. Oh, how he wanted to try the feel of it, to give him inspiration to save more.   
  
“I think Ohno-kun wants to try it as well,” Nino’s voice came, loud and firm.   
  
“But Ohno is still busy with the designs,” Nakai reasoned as he guided one of the girls in maneuvering the car.   
  
“Why don’t you do your job then, Nakai, so the work is not dumped on him?” Nino’s voice came again, still loud and firm.  
  
Nino had a reputation of being a sharped-tongued cruel monster in the class. He was frank. His words may be hurtful but they were honest as well. And the class listened to him because they feared him. They were frightened of what he would say. They were frightened of the truth.   
  
“Fine. Would you like to try it, Ohno?” Nakai offered, feeling small under Nino’s apparent watchful eye.   
  
Ohno’s eyes immediately brightened. “Really?” He stood up quickly and washed the traces of paint on his fingers with the wet cloth nearby.  
  
He was sporting a huge smile as he took the remote control from the girl. He didn’t need Nakai to teach him how to operate it. Hours of surfing the internet, reading a lot on the workings of remote-controlled cars, had finally paid off. He was giddily playing with it – accelerating and decelerating, side to side. Even his jaw was twisting when he was maneuvering the car to the side. It was a comical sight – watching Ohno play with the remote-controlled car for the first time.   
  
Ohno didn’t notice that his classmates had already dispersed to do their designated tasks for the school festival. He was too busy having fun.   
  
He was grateful Nino spoke the words he didn’t have the confidence to say. But he wouldn’t admit it of course. He didn’t know if he should thank Nino. He didn’t know if Nino said that to do him a favor. Perhaps he just said that on a whim – he was a pretty unpredictable and carefree person after all.   
  
Ohno didn’t want to believe that Nino did it for him. He didn’t want to be indebted to the man. Not ever.   
  
  
  
  
-=-=-  
  
 **Of the distinct warmth of reunions**  
  
Twenty-eight year old Ohno Satoshi found himself standing at the gateway of a house, with his fingers resting on the doorbell, seconds away from making it ring. It felt strangely foreign to him to be standing there, after practically being a nomad traveling from one place to another with no permanent address, yet at the same time nostalgic to be standing at the same spot after neglecting to visit the house for years.   
  
Moments later, the door opened to reveal a gracious woman, with wrinkles on her eyes but with a loving aura about her. She appeared thinner from what Ohno remembered. Years apart had changed her appearance, indeed.   
  
She didn’t leave time for Ohno to observe her carefully. Without wasting any time, she pulled him into her arms.   
  
That hug. That warmth was what he sorely missed. It brought tears to his eyes which he didn’t bother wiping away. All he knew without doubt was that it was the right decision to go there. He scolded himself for putting it off after all this time. She withdrew from the hug to scrutinize his face closely, holding him by the cheeks as if making sure that he was real and would not just disappear anytime soon.  
  
‘You’ve gotten thin,’ she wanted to say, but she quickly remembered how Ohno would scrunch his eyebrows and get apparently annoyed whenever she commented on his supposed ‘lack of fat.’ Instead she settled for the simplest of all greetings.   
  
“Welcome home, Satoshi,” she softly said to his ears as she pulled him into another hug. Ohno didn’t notice the subtle weakness of her right arm as she hugged him. He was too overwhelmed with the feeling of having her close once again. Her smell, her softness, her warmth – just taking it all in made him glad to have come back.  
  
He was home. It was just his mother and him, but it was home.  
  
-=-  
  
His mother held his hand as she led him to the kitchen. He found it ridiculous that she was guiding him for he was completely knowledgeable where the kitchen was. It wasn’t like the house was rearranged or anything, and even if it was, he was certain that he would still be able to find his way around.   
  
He quietly sat on his usual seat as per tradition – the one facing the kitchen and nearest to the couch – and watched his mother prepare dinner for him. She was cooking curry, or rather heating the pack of instant curry that was kept in the cupboard after checking the expiration date. Ohno wondered if his mom kept a stack of instant curry and replenished it from time to time as she waited for him to come back. Perhaps she did. She was thoughtful that way. So thoughtful and loving, in fact, that Ohno wondered with disappointment why he didn’t get those genes.  
  
She told him that the bakery was doing well. Ohno came up with the idea of setting up a bakery for business despite neither of them knowing how to bake. “Then we’ll just have to hire people who can bake!” he said when they were brainstorming the idea. She was telling him that the head baker was coming up with new ideas for their bread. Ohno caught the words ‘weird’ and ‘bizarre’ as he was carefully watching his mother stir the contents of the pot with her left hand as the smell of curry wafted through the air, teasing Ohno’s senses.   
  
Ohno noticed that she appeared awkward in her movements, which was not how he remembered her. His mom used to navigate through the kitchen with undeniable grace and fluidity of movement, owning the kitchen as her territory. Ohno thought that she appeared different – a difference so subtle that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. He was not listening to what she was saying anymore as he observed her even more. After she was satisfied with the appearance, taste and smell of the curry as she heated it, she walked back to the cupboard to get a bowl. And there he noticed it – a slight limp in her gait, as if she was nursing a sprained ankle, or probably worse.   
  
“Okaa-san…” The way he said her name was filled with worry and unspoken questions of ‘Are you okay?’ and ‘Are you feeling any pain?’ and she recognized it right away. Despite her conscious efforts to hide it from her son, Ohno was just too keen with observations. She knew right away that her cover was blown. She prepared herself for an interrogation.  
  
“When did this happen?”  
  
“A month ago. The doctor said it was just a mild stroke,” It was just  _mild_ , she emphasized. “And that with rehabilitation, I could regain the power of my arm and leg completely. There’s really no permanent damage, and it’s not like I’m dying, right?” she offered with a smile, wanting to appease her son’s worry and unspoken frustration. The truth was she didn’t tell him because she had no idea how to reach her nomadic son. He never gave her any of his previous addresses. He didn’t even have a mobile phone because he felt no need for it. Moving from one country to another entailed changing sim cards for different telecommunication networks. At first, he had different sim cards for every country he visited but eventually as his moving out increased in frequency, doing so became bothersome so he gave up completely. He disposed everything except one – his Japan sim card.   
  
Knowing that his mother was sentimental, and true to his filial duties, he made regular calls home through a payphone during special occasions and whenever he felt like it. That was all the connection they had. Ohno had a facebook account but he seldom visited it to update. Besides, his mother didn’t know how to operate facebook so there was no real use there.   
  
Ohno was not convinced by his mother’s words but he let it slide for now.   
  
“You’re here now. That’s what’s important now,” she said as she held his hand tightly, feeling roughness on his finger pads and some calluses on the side of some fingers.   
  
-=-  
  
It was around an hour before sunset when Ohno went to his father’s grave. Besides the obvious and practical reason that it’s cooler at that time of the day, sunsets had a special significance to his father and him. Whenever they went fishing, they usually started before sunset, idly watching the afternoon roll towards the evening, being charmed by the sun’s descent across the Western skies. That was the most vivid of his memories with his father.   
  
In the cemetery on his way to where his father was, he saw a man lying on the grass of a grave, arms folded together and a cap covering his face. Instead of the usual bouquet of flowers, plucked petals of different colors and from different kinds of flowers were scattered all over the green grass, making the grave appear like a garden itself, punctuated with red, pink, purple and white. He was fascinated by the ingenuity and the wit of the person who came up with that idea. With the image etched in his memory, he made a mental note that he would paint something like that in the future.  
  
Upon reaching his father’s grave, he placed the bouquet of red and pink roses on the left of the head stone like he usually did, but he felt that something was off. He took it back and placed it on the right for a change. He frowned; there was still something wrong.   
  
Being an artist, he had developed pickiness with regards to details and a fixation on positioning things perfectly. Yet wherever he placed the bouquet, it didn’t stand right to him. It was the first time he was troubled over such a tiny thing, and he blamed it all on the grave he saw earlier. He gave up and in one wild motion, he plucked out all the petals of a red rose he picked out. Stretching his arms out, he let the wind carry the petals and let it scatter at random on the grave.   
  
He remembered how he stretched his hands to feed the pigeons when his father and he were in Osaka for a vacation. He remembered how he stretched his arms and sprinted as he let the kite the father and son pair made together soar on the sky, higher up than other kids’ kites could reach. He remembered how he reached for his father’s hand in a clean white room, his father’s eyes closed, and machines beeping everywhere as if warning bells. He felt a certain tug at his heartstrings. The good ones and even the not so good ones were all part of his memory of his father, and what better time to reminisce than being there beside him. It was nice to be back in his hometown. It was comforting.   
  
He left when darkness had already enveloped the sky, and as he passed by the grave that intrigued him earlier, the guy lying on the grass was already gone.   
  
  
-=-=-=-  
  
It was 8 in the morning when Ohno woke up from his long, restful slumber. It had been years since he last felt the comforts of sleeping in his own room and on his good old mattress. He did a few more stretches on his bed before he decided to call it a morning and get up.   
  
He went straight to the kitchen to prepare a cup of coffee for himself. Luckily, there was already coffee in the coffeemaker. It was only when he was pouring it in his cup did he realize that there was a figure of a man leaning his head on the kitchen counter, sleeping. His attention divided, his pouring shifted sideways, hot liquid on his left hand.   
  
“Aahh!” he shouted in panic as he dropped the coffee pot on the table. He quickly wiped his hand dry using his shirt, and massaged the skin for relief.   
  
The commotion Ohno created made the figure at the kitchen counter stir. Looking up, Ohno realized that the figure was indeed a man. And as he looked more closely, he thought he recognized who it was, but he doubted his pre-coffee judgment.   
  
“Oh, you finally woke up. Want some breakfast?” Ohno heard the man say. That voice. That voice was a confirmation of his guess. But how was it possible that he was here in his house? Was he just a figment of Ohno’s imagination?   
  
“Would you like some toast? I can cook you some eggs if you want,” the voice came once again.  
  
“Ha? Wha- What…? You live here?” Ohno shouted. He felt unsettled as he saw the man heating the frying pan, comfortable like it was his own house.   
  
“I’m sorry,” the man turned and bowed, his face truly remorseful. “I didn’t expect you’d be back home so soon.”  
  
“Huh?” Confused, Ohno didn’t know what to say.   
  
As if on cue, his mother appeared to rescue him from the labyrinth he was in. “Finally you’re awake! I see you’ve met Nino,” his mother said as she took the ladle from the guy. “Nino-kun, can you go back to the bakery, please? Aiba-kun is out of control with his new recipes. Only you can save the bakery from him,” she said in desperation.  
  
“All right,” Nino said as he surrendered the ladle and headed out of the house, eager to do one of his favourite pastimes recently – poking fun at Aiba, the Master Baker.   
  
Once Nino was out of earshot, Ohno got back to business. “What is he doing here?” he hissed.   
  
“He needed a job and we had an opening at the bakery so I offered it to him. Besides, having a good-looking guy in our store was a really wise strategy to draw customers in,” she said, giving her son a wink.  
  
Ohno sighed, “How long has he been working here?”  
  
“About 3 months. He has been a great help. He does his work well, but he can’t be disturbed when he’s on break playing his DS,” she said, the side of her lips curled upwards in fondness for Nino’s habit.   
  
The word ‘DS’ incited a different feeling in Ohno, though. The feelings of annoyance and irritation were starting to resurface no matter how hard Ohno tried to keep the memory to his subconscious. It was high school all over again, inevitably so. “And you let him stay in our house?”  
  
“His job in the bakery starts very early in the morning. It’s more convenient for him to have a place to sleep nearby. But you know, sometimes I catch him not sleeping but just playing until sunrise – that crazy boy,” she said with a hint of motherly love in her eyes. “You knew each other from high school, right? He told me.”  
  
“Yeah,” Ohno mumbled timidly. He couldn’t tell his mother that they were not really close back then, for that would just lead to an unceremonious interrogation.   
  
“Anyway, it was really nice having someone in the house to keep me company. He’s already like a son to me.”  
  
Ohno bowed his head down to show his regret and repentance. The truth was that he really didn’t know what to say.  
  
“Awww, there’s nothing to be jealous about, Satoshi!” she said cooing as she gave him a tight hug and wildly rumpled his hair.  
  
“Okaaaa-saaan!” Ohno laughed.  
  
“Just try to ignore him if his presence bothers you, is that okay?” his mother said. She needed her son’s approval on the decision to have Nino stay. It was their house after all – both mother and son. Despite being the authority figure, she still wanted her son’s approval on decisions that considered both of them.   
  
Looking at his mother’s pleading eyes, Ohno felt like he had no choice but to agree. Besides, he could just ignore Nino’s presence. Ohno was skilled at doing that anyway.   
  
-=-=-  
  
 **Of the idea of worrying for someone else**  
  
“Don’t go,” he heard him say in a restrained voice.  
  
Ohno woke up that morning and felt the urge – no, the  _need_  – to be near the sea. Upon opening his window, he was greeted with fine fishing weather – sun, clouds and wind seemingly in perfect condition. He had already packed his fishing supplies which were conveniently kept in a cabinet inside his room. His fishing rod, a birthday gift when he was in middle school, was still in good condition after he checked it. He did a few simulations of casting to regain the feel of it, just like old times. Wearing his favorite fishing vest, he left his room, ready to leave the house as soon as possible. He was as excited as a child waiting to receive a longed-for gift.  
  
“Don’t go,” Ohno heard Nino say just as he was about to leave. It was still early in the morning and Ohno wondered why the other was already awake, and why he was not at the bakery. He stared at Nino, waiting for him to elaborate on his reason for saying those two words.  
  
“Why?” Ohno demanded, but he was answered by silence except for the vague sounds of commercial jingles on the television. He stared at Nino who was merely staring at the screen with a blank expression on his face as if ignorant of Ohno’s question.   
  
Ohno was starting to get annoyed with the lack of response from the other. He heaved a deep sigh, intentionally letting Nino hear the impatience in his exaggerated exhalation. Besides, the high pitched voices of the campaign girls on the TV were starting to ruin his mood. He rearranged his backpack on his shoulder and turned to leave.   
  
  
"Just... Just be careful."   
  
  
Ohno threw an incredulous glance at Nino. Of course he knew that! He was not a kid, for crying out loud! He could take care of himself quite well, thank you very much, as he had been doing for years now. Besides, he was not his mother! He shouldn't be acting like a worrywart.  
  
  
Slamming the front door shut, Ohno left the house even though his previous enthusiasm for fishing had greatly diminished.   
  
  
-  
  
  
"Do you enjoy fishing, son?" Ohno suddenly heard a voice beside him, slightly hoarse and slow. He looked up bewildered and saw a man possibly in his seventies, his hair and beard a salt and pepper color. There was a distinct sallowness in his skin brought about by old age. His eyes caught Ohno’s attention. They were deep with a certain wisdom and confidence within. By gut feeling alone, Ohno had the impression that he could trust this man.  
  
  
The man sat beside him, uninvited.   
  
  
Ohno didn't reply. He merely observed the man, not caring if it was rude considering the distance between them. He forgot social norms of propriety as he was overcome with curiosity.  
  
  
"Do you enjoy fishing?" The repetition of the question brought him back to reality.  
  
  
"Yes," he muttered as he brought his attention back to his fishing rod, unmoving for more than an hour already. He woke up that morning, wanting to go near the sea. The smell of salty water had always calmed him and helped him think, and he figured he could use some quiet at the moment.   
  
He had every intention of going to the sea aboard a cheap boat he could rent, but Nino’s words had a sort of subliminal effect on him. He ended up in a riverbank, safely sitting on the last piece of earth before it was hugged by the saltless river water. It was completely different from how he had imagined. His fishing vest appeared ridiculous and a little overboard.  
  
  
"You don't seem to enjoy fishing," the old man commented as he removed his shoes and pulled up his pants up to his knees to feel the cold water on his feet. "You look troubled."  
  
  
"Someone told me not to go," Ohno found himself being honest with the man. "I was told to be careful."  
He watched the thin scrawny legs stamping on the water, as he let water splash everywhere - from his folded pants, to his shirt, and even to Ohno who was sitting a few feet away. Ohno wondered if this was the man's form of exercise. He had the impression that the man was doing it like it was in his routine.   
  
  
"Yet you still went," the man said gently. Ohno felt that the man was merely stating facts and not trying to reprimand him. The man continued with his little exercise, now kicking the water instead of stamping. He appeared happy. The gentle smile on his face had a calming effect on Ohno.  
  
  
"Why didn't he want you to go?" The man asked as he was walking back to the riverbank, satisfied after playing with the water.  
  
  
"I don't know. When I asked him, he just ignored me completely!" Ohno said as if trying to defend himself.   
  
  
 _'Can this man read minds?'_  he thought.  _'Can he see through houses?'_  How did he know Ohno was talking about a male when he only mentioned 'someone?' It could be a safe assumption that it was a man. Just as Ohno was starting on his bizarre train of thought about psychics and extrasensory perception, the old man asked again, "Does he watch television?"  
  
Ohno was taken aback. It was just what Nino was doing before he left the house. "Yes," Ohno mumbled as he watched the man lie down on the grass a couple of feet away from him. "I don't see how that is relevant, though. Anyway, he has no right to dictate what I can or can't do. He just wants to appear like he's worried so I would accept him as part of our household."  
  
  
"Maybe he really is worried."  
  
  
"There's nothing to be worried about! I can take care of myself; I've been doing so for the past several years!" Yelling his irritation and frustration, his hands were trembling as he gripped the handle of the fishing pole.   
  
  
"Maybe it's not you he's worried about."   
  
  
'Huh? What does that even mean? Who else could it be?' Ohno thought. Before he could ask, the old man cut him again.  
  
  
"How would you feel if no one worried about you anymore?"  
  
  
Ohno had always believed that time spent worrying was time wasted. He wanted to live a carefree life.   
Worrying about his problems, or other people's problems, or the problems of the world would just unnecessarily bring wrinkles to his face, not to mention sleepless nights.   
  
“The way I see it, he found out from the morning news that the weather would turn bad today so he doesn't want you to go, or at least, he wants you to be careful,” the old man was calm, but the tone of his voice indicated his certainty with his opinion.  
  
Ohno couldn’t help but gape at the old man in incredulity. “That sounds totally far-fetched, sir! Plus, that's an overly generous way of putting it. That guy doesn't care about me that much,” he said before he continued his silent monologue.   
  
He had been living with the belief that worrying was pointless. And if he was asked to write in a slam book, he would have written “no worries” beside the word motto. But the thought of another person worrying about him was a totally different matter. He had never given it a thought before. He used to believe that he had already mastered the art of not worrying. However, finding out that his mother was not well formed his resolve to stay. He argued with himself that that was caring and being concerned, an entirely separate matter from worrying.   
  
But he couldn’t deny he was worried when he found out. He was filled with thoughts of his mother – of how sick she was and how on earth he would take care of her considering his lack of experience at that.   
  
Looking back, he realized he unconsciously violated his “no worries” motto. Perhaps worrying is not really something people can control. And no matter how hard you try to avoid not worrying, it would still be inevitable, because it’s human nature to worry after all. 

-

A certain wetness in his cheeks brought him out from his reverie. Dark gray clouds were above him, a tell-tale sign of a foreboding heavy rain. Thunder was heard from afar but he knew it was only a matter of time before heavy rains fell on the site he was seated. He finished packing his things in the nick of time, but the run from the riverbank to the nearest covered shelter was enough to get his clothes wet. The wind was unforgiving as it forced drops of rain diagonally, making the roof above him practically useless. It took only a few minutes before Ohno was drenched, cold and shivering.   
  
As he was hugging himself and rubbing his forearms for whatever meager body heat doing so would provide, he wondered for the umpteenth time why the hell there was no one around. Maybe they figured that today was not a good time to be out and fishing. Perhaps the weather report from the morning news predicted terrible weather, and the old man's hypothesis was accurate after all.  
  
'Just be careful,' he could almost hear Nino's voice right then, as if mocking him and telling him “I told you so.”   
  
He ignored Nino's warning altogether and he regretted it. He felt like a fool. A dumb fool. A stubborn dumb fool.   
  
The rain was still mercilessly pouring, being blown by the equally merciless wind. Luckily, there was a bench under the waiting shelter. It wasn't much but it provided him a place to rest. He decided to just wait for the rain to stop; he had no choice anyway. And Ohno being Ohno, he was able to fall asleep on the narrow bench despite the craziness around him.  
  
He woke up to find his surroundings blanketed in darkness. He stood up, so suddenly that it made him dizzy. One look at his watch made him scramble to his feet. It was already past sunset and he needed to go home.  
  
-=-  
  
Ever since he heard the loud thunder amidst the sound of his game, he had been fidgety on his tracks. It was Nino's day off and it was the most restless of them all.  
  
He told Ohno not to go. It was only when he said it did he realize that it was an impertinent thing to say. Ohno and he were nothing to each other. They were only used-to-be classmates who barely even talked much. And being imposing on Ohno triggered the fisherman’s stubbornness even more.   
  
He had been sitting near the window – the front gate visible from his spot. The Game Over sound effect from his DS had rung several times already for his attention was divided.   
  
‘Is Ohno safe? Where is he?’ – These questions had been plaguing Nino ever since Ohno left, that stubborn old man. Nino realized that he shouldn’t have been vague. He should have explained that the weather forecast was cloudy skies and scattered rain showers. He should have told Ohno to bring an umbrella or any rain gear. However, he zipped his lips and gave up at the last moment.   
  
Nino wasn't ready to show affection to Ohno because he was afraid history would repeat itself. He was terrified of being pushed away once again just like old times. Back in high school, Ohno could match the Arctics with his coldness towards Nino. Ohno avoided him like a plague. He didn’t even meet Nino eye to eye as if he didn’t deserve Ohno’s attention. There was always annoyance – a nasty bite – in Ohno’s words.   
  
Nino had had enough of that. He had been trying to forget but Ohno’s presence made forgetting a tedious task.   
  
Hearing the front gate swing open, Nino hurriedly shuffled away from his spot by the window to slouch lazily on the farthest living room couch. He wanted to project his indifference – to hide the fact that he was anxiously waiting for Ohno to return home.   
  
The front door opened revealing a wet and weary Ohno, tiredly dragging his bag. The pitiful sight crushed Nino’s façade of indifference. His kind-heartedness drove him to go and get a towel for Ohno.   
  
Ohno wordlessly accepted the towel that was shoved to his arms, and went to his room to get changed.  
  
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Nino asked the moment Ohno came out of his room, clad with dry everyday clothes, towel-drying his hair.   
  
“Starving,” Ohno said heavily as he sat on the stool facing the kitchen counter.   
  
Nino reheated the food he cooked intended for lunch. “Come eat,” he said hesitantly. To be honest, he expected Ohno to shut him out or drive him away just like old times. Or at least get ignored, for old time’s sake. He expected Ohno to be in a bad mood considering the bad weather and his disastrous fishing endeavour, which was why Nino was surprised when Ohno threw a small smile at him.   
  
“Fried rice, huh?” Ohno said as he tasted his first spoonful of Nino’s cooking.   
  
“Y-yeah.” To say that Nino was taken aback was an understatement. It was like a totally different Ohno Satoshi that was there. Did he have amnesia? Did he hit his head or something?  
  
“I don’t know much about you – the dishes you like and stuff, or if you have changed after all these years, but I guess you can never be wrong with fried rice, huh?” Nino gave a nervous laugh.  
  
As Ohno was eating Nino’s fried rice spoonful after spoonful, he remembered the old man he met earlier that day. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps Nino really cared about him after all. It was obvious that Nino was waiting for him to come home. And he even cooked him food.   
  
He reflected on their conversation and realized that he was treating Nino nicely – well, at least he was not mean any longer. He was treating Nino like he would treat any other person. And then it hit him, wouldn’t things be weird between them if he suddenly treated Nino nicely? Should he just stick to the status quo?  
  
His train of thought was disturbed when he heard a loud rumbling of a stomach nearby. Looking up, he saw Nino’s flushed face that was looking sideways away from him.   
  
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Ohno asked, pushing the plate towards Nino who was sitting across him.   
  
“No, it’s okay. I cooked that for you,” Nino’s truthfulness got the better of him. His decision to act cool towards Ohno to avoid getting hurt flew out of the window.   
  
 _‘I-It tastes good,’_  Ohno wanted to say. He gulped. Just the thought of saying a simple, polite compliment got his heart pounding his chest. He almost wanted to stand up and go back to his room, afraid that Nino could hear his heart beat – fast and hard.   
  
“Suit yourself,” Ohno shrugged, unable to say the compliment that was at the tip of his tongue. It was easier to be indifferent after all.   
  
“Yeah,” Nino murmured, as he turned away to wash the dishes – anything to get away from the usual Ohno. ‘Was it wrong for me to expect too much?’ Nino thought.   
  
Yes, perhaps he should just stick to the status quo, Ohno thought as he watched Nino’s retreating back. He didn’t want this weird, awkward feeling. Ohno was scared – scared of what that feeling could lead to. Nino was still the same old Nino he knew – warm and thoughtful. Maybe he should just remain as the same old Ohno as well.  
  
“I’m leaving.”   
  
Ohno was startled by Nino’s sudden announcement. “What?”  
  
“I mean I’m going out,” Nino said picking up his bag in haste. He was flustered by what was happening and he wanted to be alone for a while.  
  
‘It’s late. Where are you going? And are you crazy? It’s raining out there!’ Ohno wanted to say but he felt he wasn’t in the position to pry in other’s business. Stick to the status quo. Stick to the status quo, Ohno repeated to himself as if a mantra. Stick to the status quo. It’s easier that way. Easier.   
  
“Whatever,” Ohno forced himself to say.   
  
“Bye,” Nino said sadly before he closed the door.   
  
Once Nino was out of sight, Ohno leaned his forehead on the wooden table top, repeatedly hitting his head lightly, utterly frustrated with his stupidity.   
  
  
Ohno wished Nino ate together with him. The food was good, but dinner itself was boring after Nino left. Even though Ohno was already used to eating alone during his life as a nomad, he still felt a little bit lonely. When he was away from home, it was understandable to eat alone because it was inevitable. Now that he was home with people available and always around, eating alone was a lonely affair.   
  
He was thankful for the food, but he was disappointed that Nino left. Well, he couldn’t blame Nino. The man was used to being driven away by the same person who wanted his company now.   
  
In need of something to cheer him up, Ohno went to the nearest convenience store to buy himself his favourite dessert – pudding with caramel syrup.   
  
“Irasshaimase!” Ohno frowned after recognizing who the teller at the counter was. He saw the teller’s furrowed eyebrows. ‘Did he think I stalked him to his workplace?’  
  
“What are you doing here?” their voices overlapped, both with a tone of bewilderment and surprise.  
  
“I came here to buy a pudding. What are  _you_  doing here?” Ohno demanded.  
  
The teller merely rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the question. “I work here,” he said simply.  
  
 _“Why?”_  
  
“Doing a graveyard shift in a convenience store pays well, Ohno-san,” he said as he moved from the counter to the shelves to do his regular inventory. “I need money. As soon as I find a place to stay, I’ll move out. I don’t want to bother you. I just didn’t anticipate you’d be home soon.” And then speaking more to himself than to Ohno, “Maybe I can stay at Aiba-kun’s place in the meantime. Or I can sleep in the bakery. There’s a couch there I could use…”  
  
“You can stay,” Ohno suddenly blurted out – loud and with unprecedented determination. “I-I’m sure okaa-san wouldn’t want you to leave.”  
  
Nino looked at him strangely. Was he taking pity on me now? That wasn’t my goal. “But if you want me to leave, there’s nothing I can do. Don’t worry. I’m sure I can move out soon.”  
  
“Don’t go,” Nino looked up in realization that those were the exact same words he threw at Ohno that morning. “Ohno-san, you’re freaking me out.” Where the hell was the cold, emotionless Ohno Satoshi Nino had grown accustomed to?  
  
“Oh-chan.”  
  
“Eh?”  
  
“You used to call me Oh-chan.”  
  
Indeed, Nino used to call him Oh-chan back in high school. He continued calling him Oh-chan even though he was continually given the cold shoulder. He had the illusion that perhaps calling him by a unique nickname could somehow bridge the gap between them.   
  
“That’s right,” Nino replied stiffly as he continued with his inventory, trying to channel out Ohno’s words and presence. “How unusual. Aren’t you feeling sleepy?” Nino was trying to find an excuse to drive Ohno away so he could work in peace.  
  
"Not really. Tell me, why did you choose to work in the bakery?"  
  
“There was a job opening and I needed a job, simple as that,” Nino snapped.   
  
“Why are you flustered?” Ohno teased.   
  
Nino was stunned. “Are you on drugs?” he asked as he gaped disbelievingly at Ohno and his sudden surge of flirtatious actuations. Ohno merely shrugged as he leaned against one of the shelves watching Nino do his job. Nino was uncomfortable with the pair of eyes following his every movement. He could feel the stare boring through the back of his head. He conceded that the only way to get it over with was to give in.   
  
"I used to work as a photographer - a photojournalist to be exact. I liked taking pictures of people. Not studio pictures with fake smiles, fake background and all that editing they do nowadays. They don't capture the true essence of people. It just doesn't feel right. I'd like to take pictures of people in action, in the context of what they normally do - without trying to look pretty for the camera or projecting an image unlike who they truly are,” Nino said.  
  
“Yeah, I remember you used to take pictures a lot back in high school. They were mostly candid though - people in mid-blink appearing ridiculously sleepy, people talking with their mouth full and food spraying everywhere, people drooling in class. They weren't the most flattering photos I've seen,” Ohno said as he sorted through his memory.   
  
“But that's how people actually are!” Nino insisted. “That's the side of people that they try to hide,” Nino was starting to enjoy their conversation. He hadn’t talked to anyone about his passion for photography before.  
  
“Captured. Immortalized. Unflattering,” Ohno said grumpily as he remembered one of the pictures Nino took of him. He tried to forget it, but the word drool triggered his memory.   
  
Nino laughed heartily. “At least you’ll be remembered forever in history. The guy who drooled,” Nino said gesturing in the air as he put a caption to an imaginary portrait of Ohno.   
  
It was when Nino talked about his interest in photography, that they had the longest and easiest conversation. Nino’s words implied unfinished business, a dream yet to be fulfilled. Ohno was unsettled. For an inexplicable reason, he felt a grave foreboding that Nino would be gone soon to pursue that dream.  
  
“I have a favourite photograph in my wallet,” Ohno said, changing the topic to divert his attention from the sudden surge of anxiety. He fished out said photo and showed it to Nino. “I wasn’t the one who took it, though.”  
  
“I know that place! Disney Land, 1993. There was a Disney Musical, right? That’s me with the ice cream!”   
  
Ohno looked at Nino incredulously, like he had just grown 2 heads. He’s got to be kidding.  
  
‘We must be soulmates,’ Nino thought but he strongly restrained himself from saying those words that exuded cheesiness. He'd wish he'd be swallowed by the earth alive if those words ever escaped his mouth. Still, he was sure it was him. It was that same shirt, that same ice cream-stained face.   
  
“Just kidding!” Nino said just to save himself from embarrassment.   
  
“It’s getting late. I’m going home,” Ohno said as he snatched the photo back and headed out without letting Nino say goodbye.  
  
On his walk back home, Ohno had a feeling that what Nino said was real. It was really him with the ice cream. And that they were in the same place at the same time. What were the chances of that? Seriously!  
  
‘We must be soulmates,’ Ohno thought, but he immediately shook his head and dismissed the idea.   
  
  
-=-  
  
A knock and a swinging of the door revealed Nino wearing a strange expression on his face similar to someone not knowing how to react to a certain situation. He found Ohno sitting on the carpet with full attention on making clay figures of people. He was at the sculpting phase which was the most tedious, so Nino was hesitant whether to disturb him or not. Besides, considering the look of intense concentration on Ohno's face, Nino doubted that the artist would even give him a glance.  
  
"What is it?" Ohno asked. He wiped his hands and looked at Nino searchingly.  
  
"Oh." Nino was taken aback by the unexpected attention. "A postcard came for you," he said, trying to appear mildly thrilled about it. "Oba-san mentioned that you liked postcards."  
  
"Yeah," Ohno said passively. He stood up and took the postcard from Nino, sparing a cursory glance at the scenery. 'Ah, New York.' He just placed it on his bed and went back to arrange his scattered art materials on the table.  
  
"Aren't you going to read it?" Nino asked as he surveyed the other's expression. "Oh, would you like me to leave so you can read it alone?" Ohno merely shrugged with his back facing the door as he continued cleaning stray bits of clay on the table.  
  
Ohno's movements appeared stiff to Nino. It was as if the man was uncomfortable with Nino trespassing into his room. Perhaps he was being paranoid about the set-up, but Nino felt he was invading Ohno's privacy by just being there.   
  
He hoped. Every night he lost some precious sleep, staying up for an hour or so wishing that Ohno would at least loosen up around him. They were already living in the same house, granted in different rooms and their schedules do not coincide. But didn’t proximity breed familiarity and a feeling of ease? And wasn’t Ohno the one who told him to stay?  
  
But perhaps the feeling of ease should start from himself, Nino thought. Perhaps the first thing he should do is to get rid of the guilt that had been gnawing his insides. And then learn to forgive himself.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ohno-san."  
  
The suddenness of the pronouncement made Ohno stop on his tracks. He slowly looked back and frowned. He wanted to look through Nino's eyes to figure out the context for his apology, but he was frustrated to see the other man looking down as if the stray piece of candy wrapper on the floor was more significant than their conversation.  
  
Ohno didn't probe. He patiently waited for he knew that Nino was searching for the right words to say at that moment. He patiently waited because he knew that if the situation was reversed, Nino would patiently wait for him as well.   
  
Nino heaved a deep sigh as if hoping the air he sucked in would help him with what was about to come.   
  
"Your mother showed me your postcards," Nino said as he finally looked up at Ohno's eyes. "All of them," he added.  _"Even the first one."_  
  
It took a while before Ohno realized what Nino was referring to.  
  
“That's the reason you were cold to me all throughout our high school years, wasn't it?” Nino asked as he searchingly looked at Ohno.   
  
“The whole time, we were together - seatmates, partners in projects, cleaning buddies. Ninomiya and Ohno - always next to each other in the class list. Yet we never talked much, did we? I didn't know anything personal about you, just the things I pick up from eavesdropping in your conversations with other people.   
  
“But I liked you. We barely talked but I liked being in your presence. It was as if my troubles diffused out of me. You were my sieve. All the pent up anger, frustration and hurt inside me slowly diffused out of me instead of exploding big time. You were my guidepost, unafraid of scolding me when I crossed the line. You were my inspiration, a reminder to be passionate with the things I do. You..." Nino faltered. Like a dam, his emotions were pouring with a heavy current, unstoppable. He placed his hands inside the front pocket of his shorts, fists tightly clenched, fingernails burrowing crescents on the thin skin of his palms.   
  
He wasn't too much of a masochist but he hoped the pain on his hand could help him regain his composure and keep his emotions and thoughts back in check.   
  
"Ohno-san," he said as he kept his gaze on Ohno's eyes, wanting to convey his thoughts no matter what. "You are my family now. You're the only family I have left," his voice was already breaking as he tried his hardest to keep his tears from falling but to no avail.   
  
"I know I don't have the right to ask this - and maybe a little impertinent of me to even consider after causing you hurt - but I really need to know." Nino couldn't clearly hear his words anymore through the rapid pounding of his heart.   
  
"Is it alright if I continue loving you?"  
  
-=-=-  
  
Never in the twenty plus years of his existence had he experienced being put in such a situation. Terrified, he couldn't step out of his room for fear of running across Nino, which could lead to awkwardness.   
  
He didn't intentionally backpedal to figure things out on his own; he was just really stunned. It was too sudden, too unexpected. He blanked out. The next thing he knew he was standing alone in his room. Alone, with no one around to explain what just happened. He didn't know how much time had passed. Worse, he didn't remember what answer he gave Nino, or if he showed any reaction at all.   
  
For a while, he entertained the idea that Nino could possibly be just playing a prank on him, but looking back to the ‘incident’, after seeing Nino struggling with his words, Ohno was sure it wasn't a prank. Even the best actors and actresses couldn't fake such intensity of emotion he witnessed yesterday. He knew it would be insensitive to Nino's feelings if Ohno would just brush it off as a joke.   
  
-  
  
A persistent ringing of the doorbell left Ohno no choice but to step out of the room and find out who the unwelcome guest was. A persistent ringing meant there was no one else in the house aside from him. The coast was clear.  
  
“Is Ninomiya Kazunari-san around?” It was a delivery man carrying a flat package, which appeared to case documents. Ohno signed his name underneath the word ‘recipient’ and entered back to the safety of his house. He examined the package. The sender was named Miyabi Publishing Corp. It must be a company for books or magazines.  
  
He didn’t notice when the front door opened, but Nino was already standing a few feet before him, looking curiously at what he was holding. Ohno felt like a criminal caught in the act.   
  
“Y-you got a, uhmm, well, a package came for you,” Ohno said stutteringly as he handed what he was holding to the rightful owner.  
  
Nino glanced at Ohno before looking at the name of the sender, then glanced at Ohno again, as if weighing if he could open it in front of Ohno. Nino ripped the seal off and took out the documents inside. Ohno carefully watched Nino as the other read through the papers.   
  
“What is it?” Ohno asked with a hint of anxiety in his voice.   
  
“I got accepted as a photojournalist. I will be starting soon,” Nino said. His eyes sparkled in disbelief as he looked at the other documents in the package.  
  
“So, you mean… you’re leaving?” Ohno’s voice was shaking, despite his efforts to control it.  
  
Nino bit his lower lip at the feeling of abandonment in Ohno’s question. He willed himself not to look up, for he knew that seeing Ohno’s helpless, pleading face could possibly shatter his resolve to go.   
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“You're leaving,” Ohno whispered in awe.  
  
“You don't have to burden yourself with what I asked you the other day, okay? I'll be sending you postcards, I promise. I'll repent for my sins by helping you regain your appreciation for postcards,” Nino said with a salute and quickly retreated back to his room, leaving Ohno standing in the living room, still in a daze.  
  
-=-=-  
  
It was past midnight and Nino still hadn’t returned home. Ohno knew because he had been monitoring the sounds of footsteps in the hall. He was certain Nino was still outside and he was beginning to worry. Thinking that Nino was probably working in the convenience store (and Ohno couldn’t seem to fall asleep anyway) he grabbed his coat and went outside.   
  
The wind outside was cold despite Ohno’s layers of clothing. He was almost shivering when he reached the convenience store to look around. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Nino anywhere.  
  
“Are you looking for something, sir?” a sweet girl from the counter asked him. She looked confident and smart, and it came to Ohno that she could possibly help him in his search for someone – not something.   
  
“Have you seen Nino? Do you know where he is?” Ohno asked as he leaned closer to the counter, closer to the girl, eager for her answer.  
  
The girl was mildly surprised but calmly answered him, “I think he’s at the construction site nearby. He’s worker there part-time.”  
  
‘Just how many jobs does he have?’ Ohno yelled in his mind. “Thanks,” he absently replied as his mind was bothered by Nino’s no-rest schedule.   
  
“Hey!” the girl called out. “Are you Oh-chan?”  
  
‘Huh?’ Ohno thought. Only one person has ever called him Oh-chan. “I guess.”  
  
“I knew it!” she said as she clapped her palms excitedly, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”  
  
“You did?”  
  
“Nino-kun always talks about you,” she smiled knowingly.   
  
“Oh…” Ohno replied dumbly. He didn’t know how to respond to that.  
  
“Now what are you waiting for? To the construction site, remember?” She said cheerfully.  
  
  
-=-  
  
There he was, sitting on a pile of hollow blocks, his right leg crossed over his left thigh, a can of melon milk in his hand.   
  
Ohno kept on watching without approaching. Nino had a weary look on his face and he had faraway stare. He seemed to be on a break, so Ohno could approach him, right?  
  
“What are you doing here?” Nino asked. There was a hint of panic in his voice and his eyes reflected defenselessness – like he was being driven to a corner by Ohno’s mere presence.  
  
“I-It’s 2 in the morning,” Ohno said stupidly. He didn’t know what to say. What was he doing there anyway?  
  
“Oh, thanks for telling me the time. I really need to buy a wristwatch for myself,” Nino said, rolling his eyes in sarcasm.   
  
“Okaa-san asked me to look for you,” Ohno lied. It wouldn’t hurt to lie, he thought.   
  
“Oh,” Nino said, pondering on what Ohno just said. “But she knew I would be working tonight,” he whispered more to himself. In his reverie, Nino unconsciously moved his ankle, and Ohno noticed that wince – small and cursory – no matter how Nino tried to hide it.   
  
“Are you hurt?” Ohno frowned as he approached Nino to look at him searchingly.  
  
“Nino-kun! Is that your friend? Ask him to accompany you home. You can’t work with that ankle of yours,” his senior called out. Nino shot daggers at his senior, who already had his back turned on him. He heaved a deep sigh and drank all the melon milk in one gulp, can upside down.  
  
“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?” Nino cried as Ohno placed Nino’s arms around his neck and carried him piggy-back style. “Stop moving! You’ll just hurt yourself more,” Ohno admonished, not letting go.   
  
“OI! Put me down!” Nino said flailing, but the more he flailed the more his ankle hurt so he eventually gave up, but not without a kick at Ohno’s side using his uninjured ankle.   
  
“You’re too light! Do you even eat?” Ohno said as he struggled to balance Nino on his back, albeit clumsily. It was his first time to give someone a piggy-back ride after all. “Honestly, you shouldn’t have taken such a physically demanding job! Look at you!”  
  
“But it pays well,” Nino countered, “I need money.”  
  
They were silent for a while. Ohno knew that Nino was talking about the job he was about to take – that Nino would be leaving soon, and he couldn’t do anything about it.  
  
“What is your oldest, most ancient fantasy? To be given a piggy-back ride,” Ohno said in a sing-song voice.  
  
“What are you talking about?” Nino asked even though he knew exactly what Ohno was talking about. It was about that drinking party they had back in high school. What struck him was the fact that Ohno remembered that insignificant detail when that man couldn’t even remember to do his laundry on time, or buy some groceries on the way home, or make sure he was bringing an umbrella during storm seasons. Ohno had always been the absent-minded one, the one always spacing out like a fool. Why could he remember such an insignificant detail about Nino when he barely even spared him a glance back in high school?  
  
“Because it’s you,” Ohno replied softly. It was a simple and honest answer. Because it’s Nino. Because Nino had always been interesting to him. He had always watched Nino from afar – and from near as well – but unsure how to approach him. He had always been giddy-like-a-teenage-girl whenever Nino would strike a conversation with him, though Ohno was forever unable to meet the other’s eyes. He had always put on an indifferent front but there was no denying the happiness inside.  
  
It had always been Nino.  
  
But right now, Ohno was afraid that Nino’s arm wrapped around him could feel the strong pounding in his chest.   
  
“Don’t.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Please stop giving me false hope that you care for me when you don’t,” Nino said softly in Ohno’s ear, then turned to look away. Nino didn’t want to hope, especially now that he was leaving.  
  
“You asked me if you can continue loving me,” Ohno started. Nino flushed at the reminder of that incident, “That was a rhetorical question! You don’t need to answer that!” Nino yelled in annoyance and embarrassment. The pain in his ankle was far more tolerable than the conversation they were having.   
  
“But-”  
  
“Don’t!” Nino shouted, embarrassed.  
  
Ohno stopped on his tracks, turning his head to look at Nino just to see that the paler, thinner man he was carrying was looking anywhere but at him. He noted the obvious flush on the pale cheeks. Ohno shifted Nino on his back before he continued walking ahead, with his lips curled up in a gentle smile. “Okay,” Ohno said.  
  
“You can put me down now. Honestly, my ankle doesn’t hurt anymore,” Nino said firmly albeit shyly, unlike his usual whiny self. Ohno didn’t reply but merely tightened his hold on Nino’s legs. He was unstirred by Nino’s plea.   
  
“Stubborn old man,” were the last words Nino said before he fell asleep. Through the steady breathing on his temple, Ohno could tell that Nino was sound asleep. He tried to walk more slowly and carefully, avoiding sudden jerky movements to keep Nino from waking up. Ohno wanted to savor the warmth of having Nino close on that cold past-midnight Tokyo. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to feel that warmth again for a long time.   
  
  
  
-=-=-=-  
  
 _Dear Oh-chan,  
  
I met this old couple in a river cruise in Italy. They were both holding a map close to their eyes despite their eyeglasses. They came from London and the grandfather told me that he wanted to spend the remaining years of his life seeing the world with no other than his wife – his ‘beautiful wife’ as he kept on calling her, not to tease her but it seemed like it was really his term of endearment. And each time he called her such, her eyes sparkled in happiness, doubtless of her husband’s love.  
  
Every time the grandmother saw something interesting, she would call out, “There! There! Take a picture of that!” and the grandfather would shuffle his feet as he struggled to stand up. He would bring out his camera, hold it with shaky hands and take a shot. At times it was blurred because of the steadiness of his hold on the camera, but the grandmother would merely chuckle in fondness and say, “You’re really bad at this,” with a gentle pat on his shoulder.  
  
I spent a good amount of time watching them instead of appreciating the scenery around me, which was supposed to be the point of the river cruise, but I didn’t feel as if my money was put to waste. I was able to witness something magical, miraculous even – the love between two people that remained over years.  
  
I was actually envious of them. We – the two of us – are seeing the world at different timelines. Sometimes, I want to go back there. Or I wish you were here with me even though I know it’s not possible. Sometimes, I yearn to see the world through your eyes, and I want you to see the world through mine. Yes, I’m sending you all these photographs of the places I’ve been, people I’ve met and things that moved me, but I want you to be able to experience them with me.   
  
I’m bad at writing love letters, don’t you think? Haha  
  
I miss you, Oh-chan.  
  
  
Badly, especially now.  
  
  
Love,  
  
Nino_  
  
  
  
True to his word, Nino had been sending Ohno postcards. Instead of the usual scenery and tourist spots depicted, he portrayed the places he'd been through the people he met in those places. It was an unconventional style, but that was Nino for you.   
  
Ohno received a postcard that morning. It was a photograph of a couple in the front row of a cruise boat, the sun setting in the horizon, painting the sky in a mixture of purple and pink hues. Their backs were leaning against the wooden back rest of their seats. The old woman was pointing outwards and outwards as she was facing the old man who was holding a little camera as he wore a huge smile on his face. Ohno had been staring at it before he read Nino’s letter. Struck by the wonderful aura that was emanating from the couple, Ohno was charmed. He wondered if he would be able to experience such pure love.  
  
And then he read Nino’s letter – the story, the feelings and the flow of words, the gentleness, the sincerity and the honesty.   
  
The usual contents of Nino’s postcards were stories of his adventures, stories of  _other people_. He never mentioned how he was doing or what he was doing. It was always about other people. Now was the first time Nino actually talked about his feelings. And he even called it a love letter. Ohno had never received a love letter before so who was he to judge if Nino’s love letter was bad or not? All he knew was that he could relate to what Nino was saying – of wanting to see the world through each other’s eyes.   
  
Yes, he was an artist and traveling for him was as ordinary as a meal to any human being. But all those times he spent traveling, he felt empty. Over time, he steadily got hollow inside and he was losing inspiration along the way. The latest assignment on Tokyo near their hometown was a blessing in disguise. It helped him take a step back and figure things out once again.   
  
What was most important in his life?  
  
He made a sudden splendid jump after feeling a pinch on the fatty portion of his arm. Groaning, he looked to his side and found his mother with a silly smirk on her face.  
  
“Thinking really deep, huh? I’ve been calling you for a while now and you didn’t even budge. Are you ignoring your mother now?” she remarked playfully. Ohno was massaging his pitiful arm with an unconscious pout.   
  
His mother chuckled at his cuteness and noticed what her son was holding. “You got a postcard from him again?” She stretched her arms in an act of taking the letter from her son but he swiftly moved his hand away from her, as if an innate reflex action.   
  
Noticing her son’s reaction, she reassured. “Don’t worry; I just want to see the picture. I know Nino-kun has a knack for capturing moments, or else he wouldn’t have been chosen for that internship. Whenever we go for a walk, he would say something like, ‘The lighting is good here,’ or he would whisper something like, ‘I wish I’d brought my camera with me.’ He seems to really like what he’s doing. You don’t have to worry about him.” She spoke as if she knew Nino like her own son.   
  
“I’m not worrying about him.”  
  
“Then what did that faraway-stare-with-matching-thinking-deeply-and-ignoring-people-around-you earlier mean?” his mother teased.   
  
“You seem to be full of energy today,” Ohno remarked cheekily. He couldn’t help it; it was the happiest and most excited his mother had ever been ever since he came. He felt as if his mother’s energy was somehow diffusing towards him with each passing minute.   
  
“Yeah, I don’t know… I just woke up rejuvenated. Refreshed. Happy. Strange, isn’t it?”   
  
They just stared out into the horizon. The rays of the morning sun passed through the leaves of trees and gave comfortable warmth to the porch where they were sitting. The peacefulness of the moment was better than the morning warmth any coffee could bring.   
  
“Would you like to read the letter?” Ohno offered as his mother wordlessly took it from him.   
  
Ohno didn’t know when she started or when she ended. There was silence save for the rustling of the leaves amidst the morning breeze and the orchestrated melodies of birds and insects in their backyard. The silence extended as both were immersed in their own thoughts.  
  
“Okaa-san,” Ohno called hesitantly. “Would you be disappointed if I don’t get to give you grandchildren?”  
  
She chuckled. “Oh, Satoshi,” she sniffed as she held him in a tight embrace. “I don’t need grandchildren; I am already content with having a wonderful son-in-law!” she teased.  
  
“Okaa-san! This is not the time to be fooling around!” he scolded as he held his reddening cheeks with his hands. “I’m asking you a serious question.”  
  
“And I’m giving you a serious – and honest – answer,” she said as she pinched her son’s cheek before keeping her arms to herself. “Ever since your father died, I learned that we should treasure people, be grateful for the things they offer us, and not ask for too much. Satoshi, the key to living a happy life is to have someone to share it with, then everything else will follow,” she said seriously. Ohno looked into his mother’s eyes and saw all the laughter and hurt, all the fun and hardship flash in her eyes.   
  
“Even though your father is gone, I’m grateful to have you here with me. Here, and not some unknown, unnamed, or other hard-to-pronounce place in this world,” she said as she gave her son a wink.   
  
“What do you think?” Ohno said pointing his mouth to the letter in his mother’s hand.   
  
“Nino-kun?” She looked at her son who merely shrugged in response. “I think he’s perfect for you! He’ll make a good son-in-law!” she said excitedly with bizarre open-arms gestures. ¬¬  
  
Ohno snorted. “What makes you say that? That’s just another carefree answer, isn’t it?”  
  
She snickered at her own antics before she went back to serious mode. “I think he  _really_  cares for you. He may be shy with showing it but he really does. Every night, he makes sure you’re home and have already eaten dinner before he retreats to his room to rest. Every morning, he prepares the coffee maker because he knows that the first thing you do upon waking up is drink coffee even before you wash your face. He wakes up extra early to do it since his shift in the bakery starts at 5 AM. He promised me when I fell sick that he would do whatever it took to bring you home because he wanted you to spend more time with me, and not go through the same hopeless regret that he did when his mother died. He’s already like a son to me. I’m quite fond of him. But you being with him is a totally different matter. It’s for you to decide,” she said as she held Ohno’s hand and squeezed it tightly to show her support.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Ohno said gravely as he looked down on the piece of earth near his outdoor slippers on the porch.  
  
“Hmmm?”  
  
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you were sick. I… I should’ve been here. I should’ve checked up on you from time to time.” It was the first time Ohno brought that matter up. The guilt had taken its toll on him, and he couldn’t go on without apologizing. “Nino was here taking care of you while I was out there, thinking only about myself, caring only about myself.” His voice was starting to break as all his pent-up emotions poured out of him, unstoppable like a balloon punctured. His body was already trembling, and it was thanks to his mother’s hold on him that he was able to control himself.   
  
“Okaa-san, answer me honestly. Do you think I am capable of taking care of someone?” he asked in desperation. He asked the question that had been plaguing his waking hours. He laid his fears bare since it was his mother with him. It was his mother and he trusted her to not downplay his feelings, to not make fun of his fears.   
  
“Yes, you are,” she said firmly and without hesitation. “Taking care of someone is an acquired trait. It starts with getting to know the person, getting to know each other. Be open to the idea of having someone know about your quirks, your mannerisms, your routines. And even your dreams, your pet-peeves, your most embarrassing moments, your special lists, your birthday wishes, your hurt, your past, your present, how you want your coffee done, and perhaps even how you want it in bed.”  
  
Ohno gaped in disbelief at his mother’s last line. “Okaa-san! Honestly, what has gotten into you today?”  
  
She shrugged lightly. “I’m just living my life. And I want you to live your life fully. If you want to love, then commit yourself to that relationship. I don’t want you to do something half-assed. Only when you are able to know a person inside out will you learn how to take care of him well.”  
  
Ohno shook his head in amusement at his mother’s choice of words. She must have had a drinking spree yesterday with the old guys in town. There was no denying that bite in her language.   
  
  
-=-=-  
  
Nino was lying on his bed in his hotel room after completing his latest project – the bombing at the Boston marathon. The day before the reported bombing, he met a guy at a bar. They had a couple of drinks, Nino showed him a few card tricks, and the guy excitedly told Nino that he would participate in the upcoming marathon. He said it was his first time participating. It was special because his mentally ill kid requested that they join and run together.   
  
After a couple of drinks, the guy was starting to talk freely towards Nino. He told him how his kid would sometimes wander off, and that it would take about a hour searching around the mall just to get him back, how other people – old and young – would throw weird glances at his son. It was difficult to have a mentally ill kid, but he was determined to raise him. He was a single father.   
  
After learning about the bombing, Nino’s face drained of color. His mind filled with worry for the guy he met in the bar and for the guy’s son. Were they there when the attack happened? Were they safe?  
  
Nino had his share of interviewing people with post-traumatic stress disorder in the past. Uncontrollable sobs, panicky shrieks, paranoia and desperation - it was very unpleasant, in Nino’s opinion. There were times when Nino would abruptly wake up from a nightmare, sweaty and with a shrill ringing in his ears. Interviewing itself was hard, but Nino knew it was far worse for the people who actually experienced the trauma.   
  
He didn’t want the guy in the bar and his son to experience such devastation – or anyone for that matter.   
  
Nino received a call right away ordering him to go to the scene of the bombing – raw and vivid. He couldn’t say no; he was a photojournalist after all. It was the most emotionally taxing among the news he had to cover thus far. He had to balance delivering the real, raw emotion in his photographs while at the same time avoiding being too graphic. Not to mention the personal connection he had with a person who was probably, but fingers-crossed, not involved in the incident.   
  
Nino was lying on his bed in a hotel room in Boston, recovering from physical and mental exhaustion after a series of days of taking photographs, interviewing people – focusing on the coping aspect rather than the pain and trauma.   
  
He was lying on his bed to rest, for he needed to cope as well. But the idle moment of resting the body can drive the mind into overdrive. The thought of the guy at the bar and his son resurfaced in Nino’s mind. Unavoidably, he started to feel homesick.   
  
He took his camera from the bedside table and removed the memory card to insert it into his laptop. Placing the pillow against the headboard of the bed and leaning against it for a more comfortable position, he started viewing the pictures he took to remind himself of why he was away from home in the first place.   
  
Hit with a sudden stroke of obsessive-compulsive behavior, he archived his photos into folders in his laptop, and deleted those that were not needed. It was a tough work to sort through 20 gigabytes of photographs, but it was a good avenue to divert his mind from the recent happening that befell Boston.  
  
When he was down to the last hundred or so photograph files, he spotted a file different from the rest. It was a video file. He couldn’t recall taking a video from his camera. He never needed or wanted to. He took pride in his skill in capturing a minutes-long video in a single photograph, which was why he was surprised to find a video file in his memory card.   
  
He opened the file and saw what looked like the living room in Ohno’s house. There was that same old couch he used to sit on while waiting for Ohno to come home. There were those same old paintings of Ohno that decorated the walls of the household. And there was a painting of a grave that was oddly familiar.  
  
  
 _“Hi.  
  
By the time you’re watching this, perhaps you’re already in some other part of the world, huh? Or maybe you wouldn’t even notice that I recorded a video in your camera. Well, that would be convenient for me, I guess.  
  
Okay, here goes…  
  
First of all, I want to apologize that I ignored you all throughout high school. And for a really petty reason as well. My childhood dream was crushed when I received such a stupid postcard from you. I knew it was not in your control, and that by some bad luck or some cruel prank from the heavens, I was the recipient of such a postcard. I knew I should have stopped being so stubborn and childish about it, but I had already gotten used to treating you indifferently and I thought it would be weird if I suddenly changed.”  
  
“Satoshi! What’s that? Isn’t that Nino-kun’s camera?”_ the voice of Ohno’s mother came in the background.  
  
 _“Y-yeah… I was thinking we could make a video for him in case he gets homesick in his travels,”_  Ohno said.   
  
 _“Hi Nino-kun!”_  Ohno’s mother said as she directed the lens of the camera towards her face.  _“If you ever feel homesick, just come back to our home, ne? You’re always welcome here!”_  she said.   
  
 _“Satoshi, I’m just going to buy groceries for a while. Just stay here, ne?”_  Ohno’s mother called out.   
  
The figure of Ohno waving goodbye to his mother was recorded in the video. He waited for his mother to be out of the house and certainly out of earshot before he continued with his message.   
  
 _“Where was I again?”_  Ohno looked up to the ceiling ad massaged his chin in an act of thinking.   
  
 _“Oh yeah… I thought it would be weird if I suddenly changed. It’s crazy but… I figured you would think I was falling in love with you if I suddenly changed, and then it would be awkward and you would start distancing yourself from me. It’s crazy, I know. Don’t laugh! But I know you’re already laughing right now, arghhh!”_  Ohno said, palming his face in frustration and embarrassment.   
  
Nino was indeed rolling on the bed laughing after he heard Ohno’s reason. He hit his head and he almost dropped his laptop during his maniacal laughter.   
  
 _“Anyway, about your question the other day, I want you to know some little-known facts about me first. I like being alone. A lot of people do not understand that. I like to be alone but I also like to be with people. I am just scared of asking them to join me to do something or go somewhere. I am afraid of rejection. I’m not a snob. I just don’t know how to approach people. I am not good with starting conversations, or even continuing them for that matter. I am moody sometimes. I tend to blame other people for my misfortunes. I am selfish. I’d rather hurt someone else than be the one who gets hurt. I am not good with showing affection, especially in public. I don’t know how to take care of people. I  
  
I… I… I honestly don’t know what you see in me.  
  
If, while you are away, you meet someone else that you choose to love, or you realize that you’re already tired of loving me, then I’ll understand. That’s understandable, really.  
  
But if, despite all that, you still choose to continue loving me, then there’s really nothing I can do about it. It’s your choice, your decision.   
  
I still think it’s stupid, though.  
  
But…  
  
Thank you.”_  
  
Tears were already rolling down Ohno’s face after he said his message, reflecting the reaction of the person watching the video. How Nino wanted to teleport and be beside Ohno at that moment. To hug him, to comfort him, to keep him close and safe.   
  
 _“Nino,  
  
I hope you’re happy.  
  
Like what kaa-san said, you can come home anytime.  
  
We’ll be waiting for you. We’re always waiting for you. We seem to have more customers in the bakery when you’re around after all. Hehe...  
  
Ja!”_  
  
And all at once, the hotel room turned silent. Nino felt alone but at the same time not lonely. It was an odd feeling.  
  
As he clicked the replay button, he made a decision.  
  
  
-=-=-  
  
Ohno developed a habit of regularly watching the international news on the television, and every time he did so, he was constantly praying that there were no reports about terrorist attacks or bombings or kidnappings or natural calamities. He had completely discarded his “no worries” motto.   
  
It had been a year since Nino left. It had been a year since Ohno hadn’t left.   
  
After resigning from his previous job that entailed him to be a nomad, Ohno decided to work as an art teacher in a primary school a ten-minute bus ride away from their house. Every afternoon, he went for a walk with his mother as part of her rehabilitation. During the weekends, he worked on some commissioned paintings which he sold online.   
  
It was a full life. He was happy. He realized he didn’t need to move from one place to another every so often. He had already travelled around the world but he still found himself yearning. Perhaps the thing he was searching for was right there all along.   
  
Besides, he was already an old man, like Nino used to call him sometimes. It was tiring to be traveling all the time. And Ohno had already found a reason to settle down, waiting patiently for someone’s return.   
  
  
-=-  
  
“Want to bet?” Ohno’s mother poked while they were on their usual afternoon walk. She always came up with her own topic of conversation – anything under the sun – which made their walks more interesting. One of her favorites was the betting game. The reward system of the game was simple: the winner would get to receive a free massage from the loser. Mysteriously, though, she always ended up as the winner even though her son got to choose first. Perhaps she knew her son inside out so she knew how to manipulate the question to her benefit.   
  
“About what?”  
  
“When Nino-kun will return,” she replied passively. They often talked about Nino, especially since Ohno was hooked on CNN and other international news channels on cable, but it was the first time the topic of Nino’s return came up.   
  
“Why don’t you be the first to guess for a change?” Ohno suggested. The truth was that Ohno didn’t know what to answer. If he said tomorrow and Nino didn’t come, he would just be frustrated. If he said next week, next month, next year – just wishing for it, or assertively saying it didn’t mean it would be real. Sometimes it was better not to expect, for expectations led to disappointment.  
  
“I’m betting he’ll be back tomorrow,” she said assuredly. Her tone was mischievous as if she knew something her son was clueless about.   
  
Ohno merely gave a light laugh. “It seems like you seriously want to give me a massage, huh?”  
  
“Don’t you want him to be back tomorrow?” his mother pried.  
  
“Of course I do! It’s just… unlikely,” he said with a hint of bitterness in his reply and his stance.  
  
“What is your bet then?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he shrugged and sighed. “A year from now or so.”  
  
“But isn’t tomorrow  _‘a year from now’_  from last year?” she challenged. “So why can’t it be tomorrow?”  
  
“I don’t want to expect.”  
  
“Oh, but you are expecting. You can’t deny that.”  
  
“Well, he can’t just return instantly.”  
  
“Who knows? He’s unpredictable – that kid.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
The rest of the walk back home was spent in silence. The weight of the grocery bag in one hand and the hamburger patties and fresh fish in the other hand was nothing compared to the weight of his mother’s words. He had been waiting and waiting for Nino, but in the one in a million chance that he would return tomorrow, Ohno didn’t know how to react.   
  
Ohno was still mostly preoccupied as they reached the house. While he was depositing the groceries on the kitchen counter, his mother called out to him with a strange voice. “Satoshi, a letter.”  
  
It was a white envelope, clean save for the inscription in the middle.  
  
  
 _Oh-chan_  
  
  
It said in formal cursive handwriting.   
  
He carefully opened it despite his trembling hands. His chest was pounding in anticipation. There was only one person who called him Oh-chan.  
  
Inside was a picture of a grave sprinkled with petals – yellow tulips, pink roses and blue wild flowers. The name on the gravestone was not clear, but Ohno was certain that he had seen that before. And he felt that he could locate the exact location. Flipping the picture over, the usual long story of Nino’s adventures or misadventures was not there. There was only a short note, written in clean, meticulous handwriting, unlike the Nino Ohno knew. The Nino Ohno knew was carefree in both his handwriting and actions.  
  
There must be something special in the message for Nino to take that much effort.   
  
Heaving a sigh in preparation, he read,  
  
  
 _I am hoping that in the grand scheme of things, it’ll be you and me in the end – white hair, loose, sallow skin, a cane in one hand (but hopefully not) and all.  
  
And that I would be the one to scatter flower petals on your grave, or you on mine. _  
  
  
“Eh?” Ohno whispered to himself, and read it again. He read the letter again, twice in quick succession.   
  
 _What exactly did that mean?_  
  
Alarmed, he sprinted out of the house without saying goodbye to his mother. He ran towards the place where his instincts told him Nino was. He ran at full speed, until his legs felt like jelly, as if slowing down was unforgivable, as if slowing down would cause him to miss Nino at their meeting place, despite that meeting place being a mere assumption of a lovesick fool.   
  
As the surroundings were starting to get fully enveloped by darkness, Ohno was still a man on a mission, unfazed.   
  
He just had to trace the path to his father’s grave, and hopefully he would spot where Nino was.   
  
And then he saw it – a gadget emitting light on a body lying on the grass. Judging by the sounds coming from it, it was a Nintendo DS, or at least a game that could be played with a DS.   
  
The person playing didn’t seem to notice Ohno’s presence – too engrossed in his game. It was just like how Ohno remembered him.  
  
“Nino,” Ohno called out, but Nino didn’t budge.   
  
“Nino,” he called out louder. He thought he saw a curve of a smile in Nino’s lips, but he acknowledged that the smile could just be an indication that Nino was doing well in the game. Perhaps he had just gotten an extra life or something.  
  
He tried again, “Ni—”  
  
“Oh-chan,” Nino said clearly, without looking up from the screen of his DS. “I knew you’d find me,” he said as he sat up from the grass, with a boyish grin on his face.  
  
“Nino!” Ohno said as he knelt in front of Nino to have a good look at his face. He timidly raised his right hand and palmed Nino’s cheek. “You’re not dying or anything, are you?”  
  
Nino chuckled. He knew Ohno was referring to the letter. “No, I just decided – after all those travels - that I want to grow old with you. I want to be the one to take care of you since you’re bad at it. I want to be the one to pester you into going somewhere because I know you’re scared of doing so. I want to be the one to start conversations with you, and I don’t care if I look like a fool talking to myself as long as I have you by my side. I don’t want to be the shock-absorber of your moodiness but I guess I have no choice.   
  
“I want you Ohno Satoshi. I want all of you.”  
  
Ohno cut Nino off with a soft, shy kiss on the lips.   
  
Nino chuckled after their lips parted. “I thought you said you’re not good at showing affection in public,” Nino said, with a playful sparkle in his eyes.   
  
“You watched the video?”  
  
“Countless times.”  
  
“How did you know I’d find you here?”  
  
“Because somehow, I knew the scattering-flower-petals-on-the-grave thing was not your original idea,” he teased, referring to Ohno’s painting of a grave – a painting that was hung in their living room.  
  
“Yeah, I’m a fraud, all right. I just copied it from a stranger,” Ohno said, his arms thrown up comically in surrender.   
  
“Okaa-san,” Nino said. Ohno observed that Nino was looking at the gravestone. It was the first time Ohno paid attention to it.   
  
 _Ninomiya Kazuko  
  
A loving mother, an excellent teacher, a caring friend  
  
1953 – 2011_  
  
“Okaa-san, meet Oh-chan. Oh-chan, meet my mother,” Nino said cheerfully.   
  
“Hajimemashite,” Ohno said as he politely bowed at the gravestone.  
  
“Now, you didn’t copy the idea from a stranger anymore. You know my mother already,” Nino said cheerfully, proud of his logic. “It was my mother’s idea from the start. She said that it’s better that way. A bouquet might get stolen after you leave, but a robber would have no use for scattered petals, she said. Besides, it’s cheaper that way. She made me swear that it’s what I would do when I visit her grave,” Nino said. Instead of sadness, there was nostalgia deep in those eyes.   
  
“When she died, I was devastated. She didn’t even tell me she was sick. She was the only family I had. My parents got a divorce when I was young. After she died, I lost my will to live. I lost the motivation to continue with my career. I lost inspiration in my photography. I was fired from my job. I didn’t know how to live anymore. I was aimlessly wandering around when a painfully cheerful guy clad in a white uniform offered me half of his sandwich. It was Aiba-kun. And your mother offered me a job at the bakery. I accepted it right away, not really because I needed a job but because the warmth of the people there made me want to live life fully again. I didn’t know she was your mother until she showed me your house and I saw the paintings. ‘Ah! That’s definitely Ohno-kun’s paintings,’ I thought.” Nino stopped his tirade as he noticed Ohno biting his lips – what he usually did when he was feeling guilty or uncomfortable.   
  
“Stop looking so sad,” Nino said as he poked Ohno’s cheeks.   
  
“You lost your mom and I was still mean to you when we saw each other again,” Ohno said apologetically as he sighed.  
  
“But you gave me a new mom,” Nino said as he ruffled Ohno’s hair.   
  
With a glint on his eyes, Ohno warned playfully, “Don’t you dare steal my mother from me!”   
  
“Who knows, I just might.” Nino winked. “Ne, Okaa-san,” Nino said, alternatingly looking at the gravestone and at Ohno. Curiosity was painted in Ohno’s face.   
  
“I want you to meet Ohno Satoshi, the person I will grow old with,” Nino announced as he looked into Ohno’s eyes, asking for confirmation for his bold statement, but Ohno merely stared at him blankly.  
  
Nino gulped, unsettled and lost, a part of him wishing that Ohno was too preoccupied to hear what he brazenly said. Seconds passed and still with no response. Nino started playing with one of the petals – a blue one – just to keep him busy.  
  
Nino was startled when a certain softness touched his unprepared lips, as if sealing the promise with a soft kiss.  
  
“Is it all right if I continue loving you as well?” Ohno said, referring to the unanswered question a year before.  
  
“But you’re too stubborn. Even if I said no, you’ll still continue loving me, right?”   
  
“You bet.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this story was written for the nino exchange 2013  
> originally posted here:  
> http://ninoexchange.livejournal.com/32572.html


End file.
